


Death Wishes on Paper Kisses

by Prototype



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: F/M, Gen, Murder, Sadism, Slaughter is the very best medicine, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 11:52:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prototype/pseuds/Prototype
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard Way has a taste for blood and a love of horror movies, only these movies are a little too real for everyone's liking. The evolution of an extreme aggressor serial killer, born from neglect and disappointment and raised with the hatred of faux emotion and wasted potential.</p>
<p>I wrote this about seven years ago, so forgive the cliches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death Wishes on Paper Kisses

**Death Wishes on Paper Kisses**

 

**_Suspense builds as the Black Valentine comes up to the third year!_ **

 

_For as long as tradition has demanded, Valentines Day has been a day for couples to celebrate their love. Roses, hearts and romance have been the on going theme for as long as anyone can remember, but in the last three years terror and suspicion have tainted this beloved holiday._

 

_Three years ago, the bodies of Cody Marsh, 17, and his girlfriend, Stacy Kind, 16, were found horribly slaughtered on the football field on their high school, both with a black rose left beside their bodies. Two years ago, another couple, Gary Wrightman, 16, and Jill Goldenburg, 16, were found in the school hall of the same high school, even more disfigured and with the same black rose. And only one year ago, the carcasses of local teen princess Kimberley Edwards, 16, and her boyfriend Simon Owen, 18, were discovered in front of the school grounds, again with the black rose, in one of the most barbaric and violent murders to leave a scar of the peaceful community._

 

_Authorities have claimed the murders are the work of one serial killer, now nicknamed ‘Black Valentine’ for his habit of leaving black roses of the corpses of his victims. All the previous victims were reportedly vivid members of the school community, from the head girl and boy to the soccer champion and the gymnastics leader. Despite the obvious connections between murders, no culprits have yet to be caught and is still at large, due to the lack of clues or evidence at the crime scenes._

_With Cupid’s holiday only days away, the whole town is in waiting to see what violent and disgusting horrors are in store this year from this sick and revolting killer. All citizens under 19 have been ordered to remain indoors on the night and not to stray out of doors in case this psychotic killer strikes again-_

 

Strike again? Of course I was going to strike again. I’m the Black Valentine and I keep this town on its toes now. Before, love was nothing, something that meant nothing to anyone except me. Now everyone can see the power of love, it’s power to kill. 

 

I threw the newspaper down on the table, bored with the names thrown my way. Barbaric. Violent. Disgusting. Sick. Revolting. And my favourite: Psychotic. Ah, how flattering. 

 

I had a name before Black Valentine, but it’s stopped mattering to me so much. I prefer Black Valentine. It’s…poetically beautiful. Just like poetic justice. They all had it coming. Cody and Stacy, the quarter back and the head cheerleader. Disgusting displays of animalistic lust all over school. He treated her like a possession and she acted like he was everything she ever need, for the rest of her life. There was no love, just lust and dependence. They were the first to feel the violence of real emotion. When they saw me coming, Cody even ran, leaving Stacy naked on the football field, lying on the picnic blanket he’d brought. She screamed so sweetly as my knives cut into her, and he pleaded and begged as I did the same to him. I left theirs entrails hanging over the goal posts, colouring the field with sixteen pints of blood. I left their faces, gouging out organs and slicing off the muscles and tendons from the bones, playing with their corpses until the reek of blood became to overpowering and I left them to bake in the morning sun. 

 

They had been found by the students reporting to the football field for an early morning rally. 

 

My first double kill left to the public. They loved it. The media had a field day. The principle went to therapy, half the student body did. I made policemen emotionally break down, leave the force, even commit suicide. It was gratifying, the storm I caused in the name of love. My black roses were the icing on the cake. 

 

After then, there was chaos and panic for about two months, and I was forgotten. This was unacceptable. I planned my next strike, forming new tortures inside my head. But the victims walked straight into my hands. Gary broke into the school on the night, taking the Head Girl Jill with him, for a midnight serenade in the hall. 

 

I hadn’t thought of the sinister quality of music until I found my cuts and slashes matched the beats. It was my most artistic, I believe. I peeled skin from muscle, slicing it as if from a fish. I went through every layer, taking it all off and lying it out like an examination. I had been fascinated, captivated by the internal working of Cody and his little slut, but these two were even more wonderful. My bloodlust had grown over the year and in that one night I bathed in the blood of two of the worst snobs of the school. They took each other for granted, argued, fought. They didn’t deserve love, so I gave them ugly death. 

 

The police didn’t even think to check the school that night, and the next morning the insanity I caused was even more explosive. The reporters flocked to our school, interviews anyone. I was given so many names, the Black Rose, Reaper, Cupid Killer, but Black Valentine struck a chord so much better. I was striking a blow for love, and so many misunderstood my crusade as revenge for my loveless life. I had to admit, there wasn’t anyone to love in my life, but that wasn’t the reason I killed. I let the reporters spread their lies, unconcerned. I knew I was doing love’s work. 

 

There was a Scream quality to it. Everyone believed the killer was in the school, and that was a wise assumption. I was in school, I went to classes everyday with the same people I hated and killed. The police interviewed everyone, including me. Of course, there was no way they believed I had done it, I was a weakling, a bullied victim. I was so under their radar they forgot my name as soon as I left the office. 

 

I needed revenge for the assumed belief I was too weak to murder, I needed a stunt so horrible, so terrible that it was marked in people’s minds for the rest of their lives. I had killed four teenagers, caused three suicides of policemen and another teacher, so many kids were now in therapy or deeply disturbed and the entire town was terrified. Parents pulled their kids out of school, barred them from the outside world, but there were those who didn’t care. I needed to make them care; I needed to make them take notice of the false love between the undeserving worms of this town. 

 

My third kill was monumental, and my best so far. 

 

The beauty queen, Kimberly, she was a bitch. She was so mean and so horrible people liked her just so she didn’t make their life hell. She was the homecoming queen, prom queen, everything. She was adored, and she was beautiful. But she was a cruel beauty. And she used love as a way to trick guys into liking her, a trap. Her latest fling, the meathead Simon, was with her on Valentine’s night.

 

I kept them alive and gagged as I tortured them. I used nails, huge, blunt nails and a hammer, nailing them through their bodies to the school welcome board in front of the main building. Once caught like insect crushed next to glass, I burnt them. It had been so beautiful, the screams, the flames, the dripping fats. The mess that was left was so beautiful I almost cried. 

 

That year, the school got closed down after the principle tried to shoot himself and all the staff left. The town was in ruins, emotionally wrecked and left for dead. People left town, people ran away. But enough stayed for my final kill. After all, I like an audience. 

 

…

 

_Her name was Sophia and she was beautiful…or she had been. I sat behind her in class, and across from her in art class._

 

_She had long red hair, almost reaching the small of her back, and she had a dancer’s body. Solid and muscular, but curvy and graceful at the same time._

 

_I loved watching her. I always loved watching her…_

 

_“You startled me…”_

 

_“I’m sorry,”_

 

_Her eyes, rimmed in black, were blue. Not clear blue, or bright blue like the heroines in the books I read. They were blue and grey, like a cold spring morning…_

 

_“Why are you hurting me?”_

 

_Because I love you so much, I can’t stop…_

 

_I hurt her because I loved her, and she didn’t love me…_

 

_I killed her because she couldn’t love me…_

 

_Because she was too beautiful…_

 

_Because she wasn’t mine…_

 

_“Please…”_

 

_…_

 

 

I woke up from the dream with my usual irritation. They came most nights. I enjoyed the ones where I saw how I killed her, how I cut her up real good and made her bleed for me. My first kill, but it wasn’t a mercy kill. I killed her for a selfish reason, I wanted her and I couldn’t have her. No one could. I didn’t want to hurt her, but once her heart stopped beating and she began to get cold in my arms, I was fascinated by her…her naked body, her beautiful breasts and skin…I tasted her softly, running my tongue over the coldness of her body until I traced one of the cuts I stabbed her with, one of thirteen on her chest and stomach. The blood was cold, clotted and tangy. I lapped it up, digging my tongue deeper into the cut. It was so delicious, so terrible I couldn’t stop. It was amazing…it fuelled me…made me powerful.

 

Soon I had dug my fingers into her, ripping the wounds wider, trying to reach more of the taste. When I finally threw back my head, blood all over my face and hands, she was a torn up carcass, hollowed out where I’d dug for her beautiful blood. I never loved her so much more for giving me that taste, that power…

 

I looked down and saw her body properly. How easy it was to destroy, to control. She gave me my mission. To save love. 

 

No one found her body. I wrapped her in plastic, pitched with salt to put off dogs and weighted her. I threw her in the lake, hidden. She would rot and disappear and even her bones would be eaten away. She was gone, but her memories stayed fresh within me. I thought of her every time I took a life. 

 

I started off my day with a smile, remembering. I moved on to thinking about my next two victims, my finest show. I wanted to go out with a bang. 

 

The guy was the Head Boy this year, and even worse than Gary’s little girl. The worst snob this town saw in a very, very long time. I wanted to do something revolting to him, something no one saw coming. His girlfriend was just like Sophia, the best artist in the school. She was a lovely bit of flesh. Her hair was black, luxurious and beautiful, her eyes hazel poisoned with green. I knew I would enjoy killing her almost as much as I enjoyed killing Sophia. Charlie, for that was her name, was a perfect member of the school. She was kind, sweet, funny and smart. She loved to draw, to imagine. I was in her art class and she was just too wonderful to be in the hands like someone like her boyfriend, William. 

 

A day later, the day before the Black Valentine came back with a full force attack from love, I heard the news I wanted to. And I heard it in art class, sitting behind Charlie and her friend, whispering behind their easels during life drawing class. 

 

“Hey, are you and Will going out tomorrow night?” hissed her friend, a cute black girl called Debbie. Charlie flashed her dark eyes towards her friend, pushing her long hair behind her ear, just like Sophia. 

 

“Curfew’s on, right?” she checked. Debbie giggled. 

 

“Yeah, but that’s not stopping most people. There’s a dance on at the Crashpit, a big rave. You two should totally come,” 

 

“The Crashpit? What’s it cost?”

 

“3 quid on the door. It’s meant to be a rebellion thing, not a big money maker. Plus if we’re all in one place together, less likely to be picked off as the next Black Valentine spit roast,”

 

“Urgh, don’t remind me! That was so gross last year, did you see when they cut them down?”

 

“Unlike you, I didn’t watch them, you morbid little fuck. So are you and Willy in or out?”

 

“Don’t call him that. Hmph. I’m in, and I’m make Will come too,” decided Charlie and I smiled to myself behind my black hair. The Crashpit? A desolate nightclub in the desolate part of the industrial town. A forsaken factory with re-enforced metal walls and a sound system that could leave eardrums humming. The host for my final splash of the pool, the one to silence all waves. In the name of love. Pure, eternal, mind shattering love. 

 

I planned furiously that night, every little tiny detail. And on the stroke of midnight, I put on the mask of love. The white mask of Cupid, the narrow eyes and the joyful smile. I put on a demonic grin and I worked frantically. School was cancelled that day, people kept inside. Even with the sun shining, people were too scared to venture outside. I waited and waited for night to fall and I left the house I lived in. Parents? They didn’t try to stop me. They didn’t even see me leave. 

 

I marched through the town, following the route to the Crashpit. I saw people around me, children from school, moving in groups of couples. They were frightened, but charged with thrill, excitement. I saw Charlie and William, arms around each other, walking ahead of me. I smiled to myself, my dark eyes fixed on both of them. The fake love between them. 

 

Charlie flipped her rippling black hair back, glancing over her shoulder. She locked eyes with me, and waved, smiling. I inclined my head, following to far behind to catch up and talk. I didn’t want to talk. Under my coat I had two long serrated knives. In my pocket there was something that would really put it all out with a bang.  

Inside the club, there were enough kids to make it hard to move, hard to breathe. The noise was overpowering, the lights flashing and the air reeked of sweat and alcohol. It was all so thrilling, the electric current going through everyone, I could feel the whole club humming with it. 

 

I went over to the second floor balcony, running my hands along the metal railing and looking out over the club. There were three floors, the bottom one open as a dance floor, seething with bodies. The second floor was just a balcony running around the edge, as was the third. Everything was dark and black and industrial. So my scene. 

I let the kids play for a while, keeping an eye on Charlie and William. She saw me many a time, over by the bar, at the edge of the dance floor or talking to people I considered friends. I made eye contact each time, smiling and then disappearing, melting back into the crowd. 

 

Then she was behind me. 

 

“Hiya, tall, dark and handsome,” she whispered in my ear, causing me to jump. I turned, slowly, and smiled at her, tilting my head back. She leaned into me, in the tight space we were it was hard not to, and bridled under my gaze. What kind of trick was this, then? This wasn’t some innocent little run-in, she was flirting. 

 

“Hiya, pretty eyes, lookin’ good,” I told her, casting my eyes over her body. I would enjoy slitting it open. 

 

“How ya been?” she asked, pushing me back against the wall, hiding us in the shadows. I was apprehensive, I didn’t like William but I didn’t see his girlfriend coming on to me as such a good thing. Then again, looking her up and down and feeling her hands pushing me against the wall, I wasn’t complaining. She was hot, and my ideal in girls…ideal after Sophia. 

 

“I’ve been good. How about you?” I asked her, leaning against the wall. She was standing so close to me, pushing my body against the wall. Her face was inches from mine, her lips parted and eyes half closed. 

 

“Even better since seeing you here tonight…” she purred, pushing her breasts into me. I licked my lips. 

 

“You here with William?” I checked. 

 

“I came with William. I’m here for you…you here for me?” she asked in a low voice. It was difficult to hear her over the loud music, and difficult to see her in the darkness. I could only see the lights reflecting in her eyes, the whiteness of her face and neck and chest between her jacket and her boob tube. My hands went to her waist, settling on the waistband of her black jeans, touching the slip of her bare skin above it. She was soft, smooth…

 

“Don’t you love him?” I asked, frowning. She laughed, deep chuckling coming from her mouth. 

 

“How could I ever love someone as pathetic as William? I was just trying to tease you, to torture you…did it work?” she asked, pushing against me roughly. I groaned, her leg thrust between mine, rubbing up against my crotch. I had to bite down to stop her hear it. I tried not to think about how I would be torturing her before sunrise. 

 

“Why were you torturing me?” I asked, pulling her up. She wrapped her arms around my neck and smiled cunningly. 

 

“Because that’s how I know you like it. You like to torture, to kill, you like to hear things scream…just like Kimberly, and Jill, and Stacy,” 

 

My blood almost froze, my smile gone. I stared at her. 

 

“What do you mean?” I asked carefully, gripping her sides. She grinned wider. 

 

“You know what I mean, you gorgeous vampire,” she growled, leaning close to me, and I close my eyes as her lips brushed my neck. I pushed her head back gently. 

 

“What the fuck is going on?” I demanded, not letting her go but no letting her get closer. She looked at me squarely, smiling knowingly.  

 

“I know who you are, Blackie,” she whispered, moving her hands down my chest, around my ribs. I felt her hands clink against the knives against my sides, hidden by my coat. “I know what you play with every Valentine’s day,” 

 

I glared at her but did nothing. How could she have found me out?

 

“Why aren’t you scared, Charlie?” I asked her, pushing her into the corner of the nightclub, pinning her with my body. She preened under me, tempting me. Where was the shy innocence?

 

“You don’t scare me, you turn me on…blood, guts, gore…” she leaned her head back, pushing her body up, and moaned loudly in orgasmic pleasure. “It’s all just so _good_ ,” 

 

“You’re sick, you know that?” I muttered, but I couldn’t keep the grin off my face. She looked back at me, licking her lips. 

 

“Me? Sick? Looks like I match you perfectly then, isn’t that right?” she chuckled, stroking my cheek. 

 

“How do you know? Have you told anyone?” I demanded, crushing her with my body. I caught her hand, stopping her from reaching to certain areas. 

 

“I’ve told no one and I’ve known ever since you first slaughtered Cody and Stacy…I saw you do it, I watched you for hours and hours, pulling out their insides, playing with them…it was so amazing…I’d never seen anything so wonderful. You were what was missing from my life…you were evil to the core and I liked it,” she told me, wrapping her arms around my neck and kissing my lips softly. I held onto her. It was like holding Sophia again…a black Sophia. 

 

“I never thought you were so twisted,” I told her softly. She laughed again. 

 

“I’m a fantastic actor. I watched them take those bodies away, each and every one and I couldn’t believe the thrill it gave me. And tonight, finally, I’m going to be with you when you kill, I’m going to watch and afterwards…” she broke off and giggled “we can fuck in the blood,” 

 

I threw back my head and laughed cruelly. She laughed with me, licking her lips. 

 

“I was going to kill you and William tonight,” I laughed and she instantly stopped. I looked at her, grinning evilly. I wanted to see the smug, I-know-everything expression on her pretty face. But the frozen look of shock couldn’t be savoured for long, as she broke in a delighted grin and jumped up and down in excitement, almost knocking me out. 

 

“Me?! You were going to kill me? Really? Were you gonna torture me? Slice me up?” She asked, a million questions bubbling out of her. My jaw dropped. 

 

“You’re…happy about it?” I echoed, feeling hollow. There went my fun for the evening. 

 

“My dream, someone else’s nightmare,” she smiled, titling her head to the side “Getting sliced up by you would be the best thing that would ever happen to me…just to get touched by those hands, cut by those hands…oh, wow,” she growled. I raised my eyebrows. 

 

“Who fucked you up this bad?” I asked, letting her kiss my neck, digging her teeth in. It felt too nice to stop. She smiled into my skin. 

 

“Some would say it was Daddy, some would say it was movies, I think it was just plain old me,” she said. “Now shut up, are you gonna stick me or not?”

I laughed again, brushing my hair out of my eyes. 

 

“I’m not sure now…I like you a bit too much, I think,” I decided. She leaned back, looking me in the eye. 

 

“So I stay alive, but are you still gonna make me bleed?” she begged. I held her tiny waist, swinging her around to hit the wall and digging into her skin. 

 

“Of course I will,” I promised. “I’ll keep you screaming _all_  night long. But first,” I hissed, looking out over the dance floor. Charlie followed my gaze, hungrily. “Let’s get this place smoking,” 

 

I led her by the hand through the dance floor, pulling her up two flights of stairs to the top of the club. 

 

“What are you gonna do, kill them all?” she asked when she saw the look in my eye.  I grinned. 

 

“I’m leaving with a bang this time, Charlie, I’m leaving for good,” I said defiantly. She caught my arm. 

 

“You’re leaving? What do you mean?” she cried, her eyes wide. I glanced around, seeing that she’d gained several people’s attention, and pulled her into the shadows again. 

 

“I’m leaving Belleville, I’m bored with it all. I’m gonna kill everyone in here and I’m gonna leave this town crying out my name,” I told her, giving her all my secrets. I was gonna boom and leave it all in ruins. A town with no children, everyone of them would be dead, gone. Every kid in school was here. I’d slaughter them all. 

 

“Take me with you! I can help you, I can kill with you. Together we can be the worst thing this country’s ever seen!” she whispered furiously, pleading with power in her voice. 

 

“Why shouldn’t I just kill you?” I asked, cocking my head back. She smiled again. 

 

“You could…or you could have someone beside you forever who’s just as sick as you are…or maybe worse,” 

 

I looked at her steadily. She was beautiful, she was funny and smart and I adored her. She was just like Sophia used to be before I gutted her. Could I trust her? Did I even want her? 

 

Sure, maybe until she bored me. I was the Black Valentine; I could do what I wanted with her and then get rid of her when I needed to. But, looking her over again, I would keep her for a while I think. Maybe a long while. 

 

“Here,” I said, taking out one of the knives from my coat. Her eyes gleamed sadistically. “We’ll be using these as soon as I use this,”

 

I pulled out my secret weapon, something my brother had first created and then I’d perverted into something far more harmful. It was a glass jar, filled with a purplish liquid and a fuse. When I lit the fuse, it would turn into inside of this nightclub into a sprawling mess of body parts and blood. It wouldn’t be the most lengthy mass murder I’ve ever done, but it’d be the best. Simply the best. 

 

“After the pretty colours all stop flying…you can use that,” I told her, gesturing to the knife “To really have some fun,”

 

She smiled so sinisterly it almost made me shiver. There was something so dark about her. A soulless quality I’d never seen around her before. She was a shell for evil, just as I was, a creator of beauty and a thirst for blood. 

 

Nothing like Sophia. 

 

Sophia had been an angel, too fragile for this world. Charlie was…real and gritty and twisted. I pushed her through the thick metal door at the top of the club, shielding her. I took out my lighter and lit a cigarette; I was dying for one after so much sexual tension and excitement from pre kill nerves. Lifting the home made bomb to the glowing end of the gret, the oil filled fuse sparkled and inflamed. No one looked at me, holding a clunky burning device in one hand and walking slowly to the edge of the rail. I looked down on the teenage scum of my peers. Couples everywhere. Public fornication. Animal lust. Sick. 

 

“So long and goodbye, motherfuckers,” I grinned, before letting the bomb drop. I moved faster than anyone could have that evening. Before the bomb hit the floor and spilt across the rusting metal floor and exploded in a mass of purple licked flames with a force that blew the bodies of those surrounding to tiny pieces and bloody splinters, I was behind the door and pushing it shut with the dead bolt pulled close. As soon as the boom of the door was drowned out by screams and wails and shrieks amongst colossal booms and crashes, Charlie threw her body at mine, thrusting her lips against mine and her hand down my trousers. 

 

“Nrgh!” I grunted, winded by her sudden attack but turned on immensely by her lithe body and the inhumane screaming and pounding on the door. I made out with her furiously, slamming her body against the metal and pulling her hair backwards. She groaned in pain or pleasure, I stopped caring. She wrapped her arms around my neck, hitching her legs over my hipbones, thrusting my weight onto me as I pushed her into the door. 

 

“Let us out! Help!”

 

The screams and pleads fell on lustful ears as I explored the contours and tastes of Charlie’s body. Crashes and loud bangs told me when the balconies gave way, crushing all below them and silencing all the screams. It was only then I released Charlie and walked over to the door without glancing back. 

 

“Hey!” she hmphed, annoyed. I’d just left her standing there, her top askew and her hair ruffled. Her jeans were undone but I’d still left her, more interested in the bloodbath I’d created than anything she could offer me. I kicked open the door and the first thing that hit me was the smell. The smell of burning flesh and blood and metal. It hit the back of my throat like a kick in the teeth, forcing me to close my eyes. When I opened them, it was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen, along with the insides of Sophia or Stacy’s entrails or even Jill’s spinal cord.  

 

Body parts lay scattered amongst masses of blood or guts. A head here or there, eyes staring in shock, tongues lolling. Bones splintering out of mess. Some were still moving, still pleading weakly as they clawed themselves out of the crush of limbs and tried to keep breathing. It almost made me come, far more than anything Charlie could do with her hands or her tongue. 

 

“Oh my God…it’s so gorgeous,”

 

I frowned, Charlie’s voice interrupted my silence reverie. She was right, it was gorgeous, far more beautiful than any woman ever could have been. I gripped the handle of my knife and jumped. Three stories fall and I hit the mess of corpses with a revoltingly wonderful splat. I slipped in the blood and landed in the mess. It was still warm, and all round me fat and flesh was burning or bubbling. I stood up and jumped into the middle of the room, where the hot metal sizzled under my soles. It was still hot, smoky, sickening down here. I heard Charlie whimpering about being afraid of heights, but ignored her. I would deal with her later. 

 

I can’t begin to describe the next three or four hours. I dissected. I sliced. I shattered and mashed and ripped. The sick pleasure I got out of it was immeasurable. I would be dreaming of this evening for the rest of my life. 

 

When I looked up for the pelvic bone of a dropout stoner I’d sat opposite from during Chemistry last year, I found Charlie crouching in the middle, inches away from a oozing puddle of drying blood, one hand outstretched, hovering over William’s ruined face. His eyes were blown out of his skull, his lower jaw ripped off, but it was definitely him. In her other limp hand she clutched the knife I’d given her. Her face was a frozen block, caught between horror and ecstasy. 

 

“Charlie? You gonna cut that open?” I asked, a demonic grin on my face. She jumped, slipping backwards onto her perfect arse and looked at me, startled. 

 

“I don’t know,”

 

“You don’t know?!” I demanded, shooting upright and dropping the bone back down. I was soaked in blood, completely soaked. It dripped off my fingers, ran down my clothes. I reeked of death. It fuelled me. Charlie looked at me, her eyes wide but pointed. 

 

“Hey, back off, I’ll do what I please,” she replied icily, getting to her feet and holding the knife towards me. I gritted my teeth, cracking my neck both ways and strode towards her, over heads, over bodies, through blood. She backed away slowly, holding her head back and aching her back. She tried to entice me, but she only enraged me. I marched straight over to her, grabbing her wrist and pushing her back as I thrust my tongue into her mouth. 

 

When I pulled back, I had twisted the knife out of her hand, and she was wincing in pain. 

 

“You’re hurting my wrist,” she muttered softly, glaring at me through lowered lashes. I grinned again, baring my teeth and chuckling from deep inside my throat. 

 

“You have absolutely no idea what you’re getting into,” I laughed sinisterly, feeling the evil welling up inside me again. She looked fearful then, an emotion I craved. But then she kissed me, trying to erase the ominous words I wrapped around her neck. She had no idea who she was playing with. She wasn’t my Sophia, she was too caught between devils and angels to be anywhere close to it. She didn’t even see it coming when I rammed the knife through her gut, aiming under her ribs right through into her lungs. She gasped into my mouth, eyes wide and scared again. I titled my head to the side, chuckling again. 

 

“Like I said, Charlie, baby, you have no idea,” I told her softly before letting her fall to the floor. 

 

…

 

I tortured her for hours until she finally died, weeping and cursing my name. I got bored of her faster than I thought, but her organs and all that blood kept me interested for days and days. The smell inside the hot, metal chamber grew worse and worse. The flies gathered in droves. It was like hell, if hell was my favourite kind of game. Me and a room through of bodies to go through and pick apart piece by piece, humming delightedly to myself all the way through. 

 

When they found me, found all of us, I wasn’t surprised. I had been waiting, shredding muscles off bones to pass the time. 

 

“Stop! Police!” came the muffled yells down the echoing metal corridors. I’d jumped down into the underground club; I had been trapped down here for three days. I wasn’t hungry, I wasn’t thirsty, I wasn’t bored. I had been waiting for this day, so they could find me. I had known for the last year I could never keep this up, outdoing myself with new kills and tortures. So I planned and I planned and I planned. My last big blast. Take out as many of my peers as possible in the most horrific massacre possible and go down in history as the psychotic teenager Goth kid who killed in the name of love. 

 

“Freeze! Don’t move! We’re coming down to you!”

 

I stood in the centre of the room, surrounded by biological refuse and slaughter, holding the two knives in my blood crusted hands. And I laughed as they came down to me, ropes and ladders, masks to hide the smells, guns and torches. They came close to me, thinking I was a survivor, but realising I was the murderer, the killer, the psycho. 

 

“Move and I’ll blow your brains out,” hissed one, edging closer to me with a mean looking shotgun aimed at my pretty little brain. I turned and faced him, smiling. 

 

“Drop the knives,” he ordered. 

 

“Why should I?” I laughed, shaking my head. He came closer. 

 

“I said drop the knives, kid!” he yelled as several more guns were aimed at my head. 

 

“I’m not going away from this, it’s too beautiful. It’s mine. My creation,” I told him. His eyes behind the gas were dark, frightened but full of rage. He wanted to throw up, unable to look at the destruction and death around him. He wanted to kill him, and I wanted him to. 

 

“I said, drop the fucking knives!” he yelled, his voice echoing. I chuckled again. 

 

“You don’t understand, these are my famous last words as the Black Valentine,” 

 

The words struck deep chords among the  police and I felt the power rise inside me, sucked from each of them. 

 

“Is that a confession?” asked another, uncertain. I turned to him. 

 

“I confess. I am the Black Valentine. I have killed more teenagers than you could count. Cody. Stacy. Gary. Jill. Kimberly. Simon. All of these…sluts and whores. I killed them all in the name of love,”

 

No one tried to stop me, in fact a few of them gave up to their urges and threw up, pulling their masks off. I laughed again. 

 

“They screamed…and they screamed and they begged and pleaded…” I broke off to giggle madly “But that didn’t stop me butchering them all for making love seem so…normal. So regular. So pointless. Love is not like anything. Not like lust, not like death, or pain, or anything that makes you tingly inside,” I spat.

“Love is a gift, and none of corpses deserved it. I killed them in the name of love, true love. I killed them for Sophia, my true love. And I, Gerard Way, confess this to you, just before I die,”

 

I lunged. They shot. I died. For Love. 

 

Thus lived and died the Black Valentine.


End file.
